


Debatable, Datable

by tiedyeflag



Series: Smile For Me DILFs series [1]
Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Gardening, Jim questions his heterosexuality, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of boners, as in trencil sucking jimothan's blood like a vampire, dilfs are together ye, tw: mentions of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedyeflag/pseuds/tiedyeflag
Summary: Trencil did not care for human interaction. Yet Jimothan the bartender grows on him...and a friendship blooms between them.





	Debatable, Datable

Trencil Varnnia chewed on his bubblegum harder than usual. It squeezed past his fangs like taffy inside his closed mouth. That is until he blew a bubble, one bigger than his fist. His actual fist tightened around the handle of his empty watering can. The bubble popped and he sucked the gum back into his mouth, muttering an ancient curse under his breath. After existing for centuries, he never did enjoy interacting with people. His daughter was a rare exception, but today she was busy, hanging out with the Flower Child. Therefore he could not ask either party for help and was stuck standing dumbly at the front door to the Lounge. He knew there was a bathroom in there, and he just needed to ask the bartender for the key. Then he could simply fill his watering can and leave in peace. Simple, a child could do it.

Taking a breath, he marched past the open door; Gillis the bouncer didn’t even bother to close it. With each step, the sound of mediocre jazz grew louder. When he reached the last step and turned into the bar, he fought back the urge to gag. Jerafina, that ghastly drunk that drove him up the wall, was fast asleep against a table, but snoring uncontrollably. Her reek of cheap wine pervaded the whole room, making him queasy. At least she was the only other patron, and asleep. 

Standing behind the bar was the only one awake and, hopefully, sober. A man with trimmed brown hair, a touch faded by age, and a rather pointy mustache, cleaned a beer glass with a rag. He was staring at the floor, not paying attention to the snores of Jerafina. The bartender, Trencil believed. What was his name again? Jim something…? Trencil never did bother to introduce himself to every single member of the Habitat, and vice versa. 

At the sound of his footsteps, the bartender looked up with his dark brown eyes. Oddly, the whites of his eyes were orange. He flashed an equally orange row of teeth. “Oh, lookey here. Haven’t seen your face here before? You’re...Nat’s old man, right?”

“Hrm, yes. I am Trencil Varnnia.”

“Yeah! You’re that guy who likes to stick to that shady spot in the courtyard with dem flowers.”

“Yes,”

“Well, what brings you outta your shady spot and in here?”

Trencil held up his watering can to his chest. “I am in need of your establishment’s washroom facilities.”

“Ah, need water for your pansies.”

“Correct.”

“Well, the bathroom is only for paying customers, so…”

Trencil paled. Oh no, absolutely no way was he entertaining this man’s ideas of spending time together and conversing. 

Then the bartender laughed. It was such a hearty laugh he threw his head back. “Just kidding!” He pulled a rusty, grimy key out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. “Help yourself, Transylvania.”

Trencil narrowed his eyes as he snatched up the key, too annoyed to be disgusted by the key. “It’s Trencil. Trencil Varnnia.”

“Right, right. Name’s Jimothan Botch, by the way.”

“Hmph,” Trencil huffed as he made a beeline to the bathroom. It wasn’t quite as uncloth as he feared, but he wasted no time filling his watering can under the sink faucet. On his way out, he caught Jimothan out of the corner of his eye. As he appeared to be cooking...something, he flashed him a grin and shouted, “See ya’, Pansy!”

Trencil rolled his eyes.

* * *

Jimothan covered his mouth as he let out a wide yawn while he walked down the stairwell to the courtyard. The Habitat had a strict schedule, early to bed, early to rise, which meant he had to wake up extra early to prepare and open the Lounge. He rubbed more sleep out of his eyes while dragging his feet across the courtyard. Suddenly, he stepped into the puddle that no one bothered to clean up. He startled, lost his balance, and fell face first with a thud.

“OWWER!!”

“Really? ‘Owwer’?” came a voice.

Jimothan pushed himself off the ground, brushed the dust out of his eyes, and looked up. It was Trencil, towering above him with a disinterested expression. Despite this, he held out his hand. “Surely you can stand?”

“Uh, yeah! ‘Course I can!” Jimothan grabbed Trencil’s hand. His hand felt so foreign against his own...Trencil’s skin was a touch wrinkly, but soft, like a silk blanket. His long nails reminded Jim of claws, yet he didn’t feel the slightest pinch. With a grunt, Trencil pulled him to his feet. 

“Are you hurt?”

“Pshh! It takes a lot more to take Jimothan down! I used to play sports, y’know! Was a rather brawny fella back in the day!”

“Hrmm. I see.” Trencil turned to walk away.

“H-Hey, wait!”

Trencil turned his head.

“I was just wondering what in God’s name are you doing up at this hour? The sun’s barely up!”

He shrugged. “I could ask you the same question. I see you up before the sun, yet you do not appear to enjoy it.”

“Hey, I’ve got a bar to run! You have any idea how much food I gotta prepare? And how much stuff I have to clean? Gotta do all that before everyone wakes up.”

Trencil’s expression softened. “Ah. I did not consider that…”

“So what’s your excuse?” Jimothan placed a hand on his hip. “Is this a one-time thing, or are you just an early bird?”

Trencil smirked, showing off his fangs which gleamed in the last shreds of starlight left. “You could say that. Though back in my day, I used to be quite the night owl.”

“Yeah? So whatcha doing at this hour? Watching the sunrise?”

“Heavens no,” Trencil gagged. “I am tending to my flowers, thank you very much.”

“Gardening, eh? You’re softer than I thought.”

Trencil turned away. “If that is what you truly think of me, then so be it.”

“Aw, sorry. Didn’t mean to rub you the wrong way.” Jimothan came to Trencil’s side and patted his back. Trencil fought the urge to flinch as he continued, “Look, we’re the only daddy-o’s around here, we gotta stick together. Heck, you can even show me your flowers if it’ll make you feel better!”

“...Do you despise flowers?” Trencil asked in a quiet voice.

“Uh...not particularly? Just too girly of a hobby for me, I guess. And too much waiting around.”

“...Would you still like to see my latest flower?”

Jimothan chewed on his lip in thought. Then he nodded. “Y’know what? Why not.”

This brought a smile to Trencil’s face. Jimothan was surprised at the sight but didn’t have time to ponder over it as he turned away and lead him towards one of the tiny pots of soil in the courtyard. A peculiar flower sat within it, sprouting from the dark soil. The petals surrounding the middle were a rich purple, and flopped around it, almost like hair framing a face. If Jimothan squinted his eyes, he could swear he saw a face in there, an uninterested expression.

“This is a duskflower.” explained Trencil. “They’re one of my daughter’s favorites. It sprouted just this morning.”

“Huh. Funny looking flower…” The corner of Jimothan’s mouth twitched upwards. “I think I like it, too.” Then he glanced at Trencil. “And that’s rather nice of you to grow flowers for your lil girl. A little manly, even!”

Trencil snorted a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

* * *

“What’ll it be, Trencil?” asked Jimothan. He quirked his head as Trencil slumped in bar stool of the Lounge.

“Refresh my memory how you talked me into coming here.”

“What’s to debate? I’m charming and my cooking is irresistible!” Jimothan chuckled. “My drinks are top notch, too! Actually more popular than my dishes, weirdly…”

Trencil sighed in defeat, taking a sip from the Bloody Mary Jimothan concocked for him. A bit heavy on the olives, but otherwise decent. The thought of even a crumb of Jimothan’s ‘cooking’ touching his lips made him stomach sink. He seriously suspected the poor man was long overdue for an eye exam; how else could one mistake a handful of screws as decadent mushrooms!? 

Despite these flaws, the man knew how to make a cocktail that was not only edible, but tasty. The herbs and salt lining the rim of the glass felt rough against his lips as tomato and vodka slipped down his pipes. It was nice, but what was even nicer was watching Jimothan make the drink. He pulled out dozens of tricks and acrobats with his mixer, spilling his drink several times and starting over. Still, the man refused to back down until he finally completed the drink. He beamed with pride, sweat glistening and running from his forehead and down his neck.

“Jimothan? May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“I heard that your son is also here in the Habitat?”

Jimothan’s radiating face faltered. “Ah...yeah.”

“Who is it?”

“Eh? You don’t know? You haven’t run into him?”

“I’m a vampire, I can only go so far during the daylight. And at night everyone is in their rooms sleeping. He does not cross my limited territory.”

“Oh yeah...almost forgot about that.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised you even realized.”

“Who do I look like, that weirdo nerd kid who bit me?”

“Fair enough.” Trencil chuckled. “I still remember your reaction when you realized I didn’t have a reflection.”

Jimothan cringed in shame. “Yeah, yeah, I screamed like a lil girl and acted like a baby. I get it, I won’t live it down.”

“Anyway, back to my point...which one is your son?”

“Parsley, Parsley Botch. He’s my boy,” His eyes clouded over as he poured himself a glass of water. “He’s a softie, has no luck with the ladies, but he’s still my boy.”

“Huh. Have you met my daughter, Nat?”

“Seen her around. Never in here though, obviously.” He took a sip of his water. “Short girl, right? Pale skin and hair swept to the side?”

“That’s my daughter.”

“She has quite the attitude, that one.”

Trencil stared at his drink. He could see the collar of his cloak reflected on the surface, but not his face. The vampire pressed his lips tight together, unsure what to say. He almost missed Jimothan’s question.

“Hey, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, is she...y’know...like you?” Jimothan leaned in closer and whispered, “A vampire?”

“Half vampire. The only trait she inherited from me, however, was my garlic allergy.”

“Huh. Remind me to not serve garlic bread to her. So if she’s half vampire, what’s the other half of her?” He sipped again at his water. 

“The other half is unicorn.”

Jimothan spat out water in a double take, missing Trencil’s face by inches. After a few coughs, he sputtered, “Seriously?!”

Trencil snickered. “No. She is half human.”

“O-Oh. Thought for a second there my best friend just admitted to beastiality.”

“I have to admit your reaction was worth the risk.”

“Oh, shush,” Jimothan pulled out a rag and wiped his spittle off the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Trencil and asked, quietly, “So, um...I take it her mom is human?”

Trencil frowned and looked down. “Yes. She is...no longer with us, unfortunately.”

“Oh…” Jimothan ceased his cleaning. The heartbreak cast a shadow over Trencil’s expression, loneliness evident in the wrinkles around his eyes. The way he picked up his Bloody Mary and sipped, it was so slow, like he was underwater. “I’m...so sorry.”

Trencil placed his drink back down, averting eye contact. “It is alright. She’s in a better place now, I hope.” A sad smile crossed his features. “She was a lovely woman...I was honored to have her as the mother of my child.”

“Wish I could say the same about mine…” Jimothan muttered under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jimothan blinked. Shoot, he should have known better than to challenge his friend’s superhuman hearing. Wringing the cleaning rag in his hand, he replied, “I...I’m a little envious of your situation, in a twisted sort of way.” He twisted the rag harder.

“Are you saying you’re not proud of your son?”

“No!! No, I mean--” Jimothan dropped the rag, but he paid it no mind. “Parsley’s a pansy, but...look, don’t tell anyone this, but the whole reason I’m here is to look out for him. I...I care about him, that softie.” He sighed. “Unfortunately I can’t say the same thing about my wife. Ex-wife, that is.”

“Oh…” Trencil’s frown took on a different light. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

“Nah, it’s fine...I woulda told you sooner or later, probably.” He downed the rest of his water. “But yes...we’re divorced. Can’t say she’s the only one at fault, though. I wasn’t exactly pulling my weight in that relationship at the time, so...she sought companionship elsewhere.” Tears tickled at the corners of his eyes. He pretended to scratch his nose to wipe them away. “If I’m being completely honest, I...still love her. Even though we can’t stand to be in the same room for more than five minutes anymore. And the real kicker?” He couldn’t fight it, a tear ran down his cheek, narrowly missing his mustache. “I can’t even imagine what sort of hell that put our son through.”

A finger wiped the tear away. Trencil’s finger. His long nails gently brushed against Jimothan’s cheekbone, his ancient skin grazing mortal flesh. Trencil looked up, directly at Jimothan’s eyes. “...I’m sorry, I…” He paused. “It is always tragic to lose a loved one, whether by fate or by choice.”

“I...yeah, you’re right.” Jimothan sniffed. “Thanks, buddy.”

“‘We’re the only daddy-o’s around here, we gotta stick together’, correct?”

Jimothan broke out into his trademark laughter. “My god, that sounds ridiculous coming from you.”

“Then let us change the subject; mind telling me more about your son?”

Jimothan cracked a wide grin as he went into describing Parsley and retelling embarrassing stories of Parsley growing up, keeping both men in the lounge until curfew.

* * *

With uneasy feet, Trencil made his way up the stairwell. His hands quivered as he gripped the railing for support. Heavy breathing, head spinning, heart pounding...the signs of low blood pressure. As in he needed blood. He hissed in discomfort as his stomach clenched. He usually kept a handful of blood supplements in his pockets, but he already used them up today. 

Today was a rather...active day. It was a cloudy day, solid overcast, which meant Trencil could walk around the Habitat at his leisure. On that same day, Gillis took Jerefina’s shoe as a prank, and refused to give it back. Thus started a long chase in the courtyard of a drunken, dimwitted woman chasing a burly, boyish man. Of course Jimothan had to ask Trencil to help him stop the chaos, and of course he had to help because he didn’t have the sun as an excuse. 

He was rather out of shape for an immortal...Trencil nearly tripped and fell halfway up the stairs. 

“Trencil? Buddy?”

Trencil looked up. Even with his eyes going out of focus, he recognized Jimothan walking down the stairs to him. As he came closer, Trencil could smell him, of aftershave and cooking oil. And flesh, ripe with blood. Trencil covered his mouth, feeling his fangs ache.

“Whoa! Trencil, you okay? You look ready to puke!”

“Aghn...S-Stay back…”

Jimothan paused, but just for a moment. He looked more prepared for an onslaught of vomit, not the onslaught of a famished vampire. His expression softened as he came over to Trencil’s side, sliding one arm around his shoulders, supporting him. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

At this position, Trencil was inches away from Jimothan’s inviting throat. A thick, juicy throat, with tender arteries just  _ waiting _ to be devoured. “Jim, you don’t understand--hnnng…”

“What, you need puke _ now? _ ”

“Jim, you imbecile--!” 

“Wha--?!”

Before Jimothan could even blink, Trencil pinned him against the cold, concrete wall. His long nails felt like claws as they grasped his shoulders with incredible strength. Jimothan was too shocked to move, but even if he could, he was no match for Trencil in this state. No amount of boxing could make a dent in his immortal body. Trencil leaned in, breathing against his neck. Jimothan gulped at the hot air grazing past his throat. It dawned on him what was going on.

“Oh. Oh! You’re--Uh, you need--”

“Blood, Jimothan. I need blood.” He licked his lips, his entire form trembling, instincts fighting against his heart. Shaking like a leaf, he leaned away, his dark eyes staring at his muddy gardening boots. “You...You need to leave me, Jimothan. Before I--”

“Wait, wait, hold on!” 

Trencil looked back up, briefly out of his bloodlust.

“H-How much blood do you need? Like, just enough to get you to your room?”

“What...What are you saying?”

“I…” Jimothan gulped again, his mouth generating more saliva than usual. “I wanna help you, Trencil. I wanna...offer up my blood.”

Trencil’s eyes widened, his eyes dilating like a cat’s.

“Just a little, though!” Jimothan warned. “Just enough to get you to your room. I mean, it won’t--It won’t kill me, right? Or-Or turn me into a vampire?”

“No, it won’t, I would never…” He gasped for air. “I would never kill or turn you…”

Jimothan shivered. “Then…” He loosened his black tie, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his orange shirt. Pulling them aside, he exposed his neck to the chilly evening air. “Then help yourself, buddy.”

The bartender was expecting Trencil to jump him to snap his neck forward and latch onto his neck. Instead, Trencil slowly leaned closer. His hot breath hit his neck, like a humid breeze. Thin, soft lips pressed against Jimothan’s neck, and he gasped at the contact. Those lips grazed along his neck, exploring, seeking. They stopped at his jugular and pressed closer. A sliver of wetness brushed past his skin. It was his tongue, Jimothan realized. That tongue ever so gently wet his sensitive skin, right against his pulse. Both of them clung to each other, unsure who trembled more, whether by the chill or by the situation. 

“Ahh…” breathed Trencil. “So warm…”

Jimothan chuckled awkwardly. “Th-Than--AH!!”

Fangs pierced his skin. Those fangs, so sharp yet smooth, dug into his skin. Liquid warmth dribbled from the incisions...blood, Jimothan realized. His blood. Before it could run down his neck and stain his clothes, Trencil’s hot tongue lapped it up. He then locked his lips against the skin and sucked. 

“AhhHHH…” moaned Jimothan. He couldn’t stop himself. He trembled against the wall while he clutched Trencil’s cloak like a lifeline. The silky fabric bunched up in his calloused hands, barely grounding him to reality. 

Why did this feel so...good? Intimate? Hot as fuck??

The shared space of their bodies, the soft suckling of those lips, the light feeling filling his head like cotton…

He didn’t even care he popped a boner on his best friend.

After an eternity cut short, Trencil retracted his fangs, but his lips remained sealed against his skin. He ran his tongue over the cuts, his saliva coating over the incisions. Then he pulled away with a subtle smack of his lips. Leaning away, he looked at Jimothan. “How...How are you feeling?”

Jimothan’s eyes fluttered. An airy grin spread across his face as he replied, “Uh...Uh huh…”

It was Trencil’s turn to be the alert one. He gently draped Jimothan’s arm over his shoulder and tugged him towards the stairwell. “Come, let me help you to your room.”

“Th...Thanks, buddy…”

* * *

The following morning, Jimothan seriously questioned his heterosexuality. He would have stayed in bed all day, pondering it, had his son not barged into his room. Parsley helped Jimothan to his feet, explaining that everyone in the habitat was escaping. They were leaving, now. In his sleepy state, everything passed in a blur. It wasn’t until the aftermath, when everyone was home in one piece, did he have the time and energy to resume his questioning.

That night before, Jimothan felt genuine compassion for his friend. Prior, he listened to Trencil go on and on about his flowers or his daughter. He helped him get around on sunny days with an umbrella. And the pinultimum, he willingly offered his own blood to his vampire friend. He wasn’t afraid of him, he trusted him with his life. And he enjoyed the sensations of it far more than a friend should.

Was he bisexual, or did he have a neck biting kink?

His questions filled his head and jumbled around his skull, like old jewelry in a locked jewelry box, making a racket. It made it hard to think...but more importantly, he missed Trencil. He missed his calm, somber company and the feeling of his lips on his neck. 

“Grrrgh…” He groaned, gripping his head in his hands. He sat on the edge of his unmade bed in his tiny apartment. “Why couldn’t you have left me a phone number or something, dammit?!” He sighed, running a hand past the tiny scar left at his throat. Parsley had mistaken them as zits, and poked fun at him, but Jimothan didn’t care. It was all he had left of his friend.

Running a hand through his hair, he got up and dragged his feet to the kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker when the phone rang. The high pitched ring pierced his ears, insistent. Groaning, he picked it up and held it to his ear. “Hello, who the hell is this at this hour?”

“Still not a morning person, I see,”

Jimotan’s eyes went from fighting sleep to wide as dinner plates. “Wha--Trencil? That you, buddy?”

Trencil chuckled. “Indeed it is. And is that you, old friend?”

“How in Habit’s name did you get my number?” he demanded excitedly.

“The Flower Child, believe it or not. They gave me your number.” A pause. “I do hope this isn’t an invasion of privacy--”

“NO! No, I-I missed you!”

An awkward silence.

Jimothan cleared his throat. “Uh, anyway...wait, you have a phone?”

“Yes, Nat taught me how to use it. She claimed it was a must for a ‘cool’ dad like myself.”

“Wow, she did? Sounds like the lil stinker turned her attitude around.”

“Coming from anyone else, I would curse you right where you stand for insulting my daughter.”

“Can you do that over the phone?”

“...I have no comment,”

Jimothan chortled. “Ahh, man, I missed you, buddy.”

“As did I. Hence the reason I’m calling you...if you’re not occupied, that is.”

Jimothan opened his mouth, when his eyes fell on the clock. He had to go to work soon, and the coffee was almost done. All the optimism in his body rushed out of him, painfully so. It was as if the air was ripped out of him, and he wanted it back, badly. “Uh, actually I’m getting ready to go to work…”

“Ah…” Trencil’s voice deflated. “My apologies for interrupting your morning routine.”

“No! No, no, it’s fine! Can I, uh, call you back?”

Jimothan could hear the smile in Trencil’s voice as he replied, “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on making a second part involving them doing the do, but I wanted to keep that separate for the kiddos. Though I and the rest of the fandom call the dads dilfs (with good reason ;3), I...am not sure I'd like to diddle either of them. I'd much rather see them diddling each other lol
> 
> Feedback and reviews are appreciated! :D


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